The Five Stages of Grief (And the Sixth Unexpected Turn Around)
by with-etoiles
Summary: Kurt breaks up with Blaine in a time of blinding hope and tender change. As Kurt goes off to New York to realize his light studded city dreams, Blaine is stuck in Ohio and has to deal with the reality of their breakup.


The 5 Stages of Grief (And the Sixth Unexpected Turn Around)

_A/N: Welp, that writer's block I just had was the longest of my life, and I kept starting stories but I couldn't finish them and I've got like 4 other unfinished stories, so I'm really glad I could get at least this one done. Anyways, this fic pretends that Kurt got into NYADA, and it's before Tike broke up. This fic was pretty painful to write, I must admit, but I like the end result! Plus, the last scene was so fun to write. I'm rambling again, sorry guys! I hope you like it, and hopefully I'll see you guys again soon! (If I can finish one of those unfinished stories that are blatantly staring me in the face, gr.) _

_(And I will keep is unbetaed, so don't be too harsh on me if there are conventional mistakes!)_

1 .Denial and Isolation

_I'm right there if you get lonely give this song another listen_

_Close your eyes, listen to my voice it's my disguise_

_I'm by your side_

_Oh it's what you do to me_

_It's what you do to me_

"Hey," Kurt whispered softly, taking Blaine by the shoulders and leaning his head into the curve of them. "Honey."

Blaine smiled, all brilliance and grace, pressing a kiss to the top of Kurt's hair.

It was the color of bark. Of money rolls. Of rusted pennies.

Not, as it had been of late, of cinnamons, well loved coffee stains, cedar woods and terra cotta.

"Hey," he replied, taking Kurt's hand and leading them to a familiar brown, the faded wood of the piano that sat in the middle of his guest room, surrounded by wilting hydrangeas and notebooks tossed about. Multicolor magazines sat on a low set glass table, and a few inches away a Dalton Academy yearbook laid open to the extracurriculars section, only a page away from the smiling faces of Dalton Academy's finest, the Warblers. Kurt smiled, all white in a largely fake space, and slid onto the piano bench. A clock struck noon and played the perky tune of "It's a Small World".

"Aren't you coming?" Kurt laughed, a tinkling to match the clock. "I want to hear your masterpiece, silly."

Blaine was distracted by the way the light rolled off him, the way the keys seemed to jump alive to claw at him and steal his superior energy for their own, to harness it to enhance their beauty.

"Blaine?" he asked again. "Oh, I love you," he laughed, continuing. "Don't be nervous, you always play for me you adorable little, weirdly shy right now, prodigy! Show me your genius!"

Blaine smiled, coerced by Kurt's voice, and sat down, tapping out the beginning chords of "Hey There Delilah".

"I recognize this song," Kurt sighed beside him. His voice content, he leaned closer to Blaine. "I love you," he whispered into his ear comfortably, so comfortably. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he whispered rhythmically, a simple punctuation of breath on the melody as Blaine played, fingers puncturing keys and keys yielding softly in return. Soft tinges of red flashed behind Blaine's eyelids, of danger and thrill and romance, and the melody carried on, floating on the wind.

Kurt began to sing along softly, under his breath, breath touching the column of Blaine's neck.

"_Hey there Delilah, I know times are getting hard_

_But just believe me girl, someday I'll pay the bills with this guitar_

_We'll have it good, we'll have the life we knew we would_

_My word is good"_

Blaine smiled in response, rerouting the tingles on his neck to his lips, which trembled with a fierce longing as he sang.

"_Hey there Delilah, I've got so much left to say_

_If every simple song I wrote to you_

_Would take your breath away, I'd write it all_

_Even more in love with me you'd fall, we'd have it all"_

It came to the chorus, and Kurt began oohing gently, resting a warm hand on Blaine's leg, his voice climbing higher as he sang acapella. Blaine stopped suddenly, briefly touching a hand to Kurt's on his leg. Tears sprung up in his eyes, lilac colored tears, over worn and overwrought, and the realization hit that he didn't want to do this anymore. He flattened his hands, an abruptly beautiful discord disrupting the roses.

"Kurt," he pleaded, struggling to push the lilac tears back down. "Kurt, oh gosh, _Kurt_."

"Blaine, oh god, what's the matter?" Kurt looked around wildly, looking to see if Blaine's parents were back home yet, looking around. "Blaine, are you alright?"

"I," he sniffed, looking around in response and then stood up quickly, leaning against a chair. "Kurt. Kurt Kurt _Kurt_."

"Blaine?" he responded, voice pitched slightly higher. "Look, I'm still here. I haven't left for New York yet! What's wrong?"

"You need to go, Kurt," he said, willing the tints of tears in his voice to vanish. "I can't stop you from going, no matter how badly I want to. You have to go. You _belong_ there."

Kurt stepped forward to wrap his arms warmly around Blaine's waist. "I love you, and nothing's gonna change that, alright?"

"I know," Blaine conceded weakly. "But we keep saying it. So much."

"It's what we always do!" Kurt responded, laughing. "Blaine Warbler, do you know nothing about our relationship?"

Blaine laughed weakly. "But it's different now, Kurt."

"Why?" Kurt asked, still leaning into Blaine and making no movement to untangle himself.

"Because you're leaving, and I love you so much, and you're leaving, and we're ignoring the fact that you're leaving, Kurt. I'm sitting here playing a song for you that I meant to sing to you as a going away gift but we're both ignoring the fact that _you're leaving_."

"What do you expect me to do, Blaine?" Kurt asked, still keeping his proximity. "I don't want to deal with it. Dealing with it is just… it's hard. Can't we ignore it for now, Blaine? Can't we?"

"But it's breaking me," Blaine stammered weakly, crumpling. "It's breaking me."

"And you don't think it's doing the same to me?" Kurt asked, stepping away, voice rising. "It breaks me every damn day, Blaine! And I don't want to face the fact that I'm leaving for NYADA tomorrow, but I am! And thinking about leaving you hurts too much, so I leave it alone! Am I not allowed the relief of pain?"

"Of course you are, Kurt. It's just that… I think we need to stop ignoring it for now."

"And what the hell does that mean?" Kurt demanded, tears welling in his eyes.

"It means we should-"

But Blaine saw the pain dripping in Kurt's eyes.

"-forget I said anything," he finished. "I'm sorry, Kurt, I'm sorry." The distress in his voice fell with every saddened word. "I'm just going to miss you so much."

Kurt smiled feebly. "You're the worst, Blaine Anderson," he said through graying tears. "I thought I was going to lose you there for a minute."

"I love you so much," Blaine said again.

"I love you just as much," Kurt replied, pulling Blaine in for a passionate kiss. Blaine knotted his fingers into Kurt's hair, grabbing fistfuls of the fading currency of love and holding on tight, as tight as he possibly could.

* * *

"Do you ever think about how we're adults now?" Kurt asked Blaine, squeezing his hand.

They were in Blaine's room, green tones gently pressing down on them. Blaine's parents still hadn't come home, even as the sky teetered on a precarious balance, fighting a battle of good and evil along the pink horizon.

Blaine smiled coyly. "You mean how we can do adult things now?" he asked while kissing along Kurt's neck, whispering words into his skin.

"If so," he whispered between kisses, "I most certainly do."

"Stop it," Kurt whined affectionately, half-heartedly batting a hand at Blaine. "This is serious, Blaine."

"Fine," Blaine acquiesced, smiling brightly. "_Why so serious?_" he sang quietly.

"I said serious, Anderson."

"Okay, okay. Why so serious, Kurt?" he repeated.

"Because I'm sorry," he said, pulling in Blaine close and pulling the covers up and above them.

"Ooh, is this some sort of secret?" he laughed as the covers went up and over them.  
"Why are you sorry, Kurt?"

"Because I've been deceiving you." Plain. Simple. Unadorned.

"We've been dating for almost two years, I think I'd be able to tell when you're faking things," Blaine responded, eyes still shining brightly, much too brightly underneath the dark covers.

"You don't understand," Kurt murmured, pulling Blaine even closer. "I love you," he said with emphasis, pulling Blaine into a sloppy, strong kiss. "God, I love you."

"This is about earlier, isn't it." Stagnant punctuation severed the question.

"Unfortunately."

"So what now?" Blaine asked quietly. "Are you breaking up with me?"

Kurt just looked on at him; his eyes were two drifting cosmos in space.

"Why," Blaine stated. "Why?"

"I can't hold onto you, Blaine."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"You're something from my past, Blaine."

"So you're on some ridiculous quest to clear your future of your past?" Blaine asked, exhausted. "So it can be better?"

"No, Blaine, I just… I hate seeing you in pain."

"Only because this is happening! And why exactly is it happening?"

"I… I've changed, Blaine. I've changed, and it's all my fault, and I still love you very much… but I can't do this. I'm…"

"What? Bored of me?"

"Yes." Kurt answered, stopping him. His voice began to speed, tears forming at the same rate. "I've changed, and I don't know if you've seen it or have just blinded yourself to it because you love me, but I've changed. And New York is going to be the last stamp of that change, and it's going to break your heart if you're still with me and it'll be so easy to just drift apart and do this without any pain…"

"But what?" Blaine asked, resigned. He fumbled for Kurt's hand.

"But pain can be a good thing sometimes," he laughed. A drop of moisture fell on their conjoined hands. "I've gone through enough of it to know."

For a moment there was empty silence. Nothing but the sounds of their tears, the ticking of clock on Blaine's dresser, and the occasional shuffle of the sheets.

Nothing but despair ringing in Blaine's ears.

Blaine brought a hand up to wipe a budding tear from his eye. "Is that it?" he asked. "Have I survived the worst of it?"

Kurt sighed. "You've survived the worst of it, Blaine Anderson. You've survived the worst."

"Okay," he said wearily. He threw off the blankets, flurries of fresh air clearing his mind, and stood up.

"May I have one last kiss before I go?" Kurt asked, also standing up. Those two cosmos threw the illusion of going right through Blaine, even as he knew they were currently whirling off into the star speckled great beyond.

"Of cou-" Blaine started to answer, but the collision of Kurt's lips against his stopped that notion. Kurt kissed passionately, desperately, sucking on Blaine's upper lip and tangling with his tongue as he pushed him against the wall, grabbing Blaine's waist in lieu of the wall and holding on tight. Blaine relaxed into his touch, but only for a moment, because the bitterness started to seep through. Kurt's tongue tasted like bitter honey, and Blaine needed to get the palate off his tongue as soon as possible, as soon as possible, but the tang was tender and throbbing, poignant and galling and grievous, and it stung with the most wonderful sensation that he wrapped his tongue around it like a hawk wrapped his talons around his prey, and he stood there and inhaled the toxins as Kurt administered them, until-

"Kurt!" he broke the kiss, gasping for breath.

Kurt took a few slow steps back, bringing a hand up to his lips. "Wow."

"This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do," Blaine muttered to himself. "But," he made his voice louder, "Goodbye." The curve of his lips up. "I'll be there to see your name in lights someday, I promise."

"I'm so sorry… I was only trying to do what was best…"

"I'll be okay; don't worry."

"Are you sure?" Kurt asked, tears flowing more freely now than ever.

Blaine nodded.

Kurt took in a steadying breath. "Goodbye then, Blaine."

He just nodded again.

"I'm gonna miss you more than you can imagine," Kurt said, and then he was out the door and out of the house.

Out of Blaine's life.

* * *

The first thing Blaine did was cry.

He cried until the sobs racked him with a force even the greatest storms would envy, until his tears became like dust, floating in the air in packs of thousands. Blaine used to think the dust specks, when he could see them, were like specks of magic. Thousands of tiny specks of magic.

The magic leaked from his eyes, from his body, spread onto the bed and the floor and seeped out the door until it found its place in the home of all Blaine's broken dreams, the symbolic graveyard of hopes lost. That small corner in his mind always fighting to get him to give up. That corner that flashed Sadie Hawkins before his eyes. That made the punches that night feel real right now. That corner that detailed his dad's disappointed look when he had come out and his mother's inability to care enough to interfere in the interfamilial relationships they didn't have. That corner that his overly bright attitude fought to beat back every day. It settled there, with a high and mighty throne, and wielded its scepter. It was king.

* * *

Hours later, Blaine scribbled into a notebook. He wrote all the memories of their relationship while they were still fresh. He catalogued the way their hugs were so soft yet firm, the height difference between them, their mutual dreams of recognition and acceptance, their wedding planner, their save the date, Kurt's frazzled hands when he was stressed, the dewiness of Kurt's eyes, the natural blush that rested on Kurt's cheeks, Kurt's strong hands, Kurt's tendency to take the high road, the way Kurt's jealousy hung on him like a too small sweater, the regality Kurt carried about him, the way Kurt was always vitally _there _in a room, the way Kurt-

The pen exploded on the page.

Blaine slammed the notebook closed.

* * *

He didn't talk to anyone for three days. His parents had come home later that night, and in their typical fashion, had not checked to see if he was there. For all they knew, he could be out fucking Kurt right now. But he wasn't. He couldn't anymore.

That body wasn't his to hold.

_This can't be happening, _he thought despairingly.

But it was, and Blaine knew he needed to pull himself together.

Tina had called Blaine several times, which Blaine had only found out after he had turned his cell phone back on a few days after. There were also several messages from Kurt, hoping that they could still be friends and texting him small trivial things about his journey.

Blaine went to delete the messages from Kurt, but he couldn't make himself.

He called Tina instead.

"Hey Tina," he said as the 'leave a message' tone beeped. "I really need to talk to you. Soon."

He hung up.

Everything still felt hollow and empty.

2. Anger

"_I wrapped myself in anger, with a dash of hate, and at the bottom of it all was an icy center of pure terror." -Laurell K. Hamilton, Guilty Pleasures_

"'Ello there, Blaine Anderson!" Tina said brightly as Blaine opened the door of his house.

"I'm going out with Tina," he called out to his parents wearily in response.

"Oh, okay," Tina said, grabbing for Blaine's hand and pulling him out the front door. "This is obviously serious."

He laughed almost condescendingly. "Ha! Yeah, it is."

"Sweetie, you're not alright, are you?"

Blaine just shook his head, looking down the entire time.

"Oh, Blaine," Tina said, pulling him into a strong hug. "I am _so _sorry for whatever happened, and I promise you can tell me about it if you want."

"Of course I do, Tina," he replied. "Just… not here, alright? Anywhere else. God. Just anywhere else."

"Okay…" Tina responded, drawing out her words. "I know the perfect place," she said suddenly, and she swept up Blaine's hand and pulled him along, almost comically running through Lima's streets with Blaine bewilderingly lagging behind.

"This is outrageous," Blaine called out as Tina continued to rush ahead. "We should at least sing or else I'll feel silly."

"Good idea," Tina said brightly. She slowed down to a gentler pace, pulling Blaine closer by the shoulders and resting an arm around him. They were still walking, and Tina began to sing. "_Hakuna Matata_," she began, laughing, and watching for Blaine's reaction.

Blaine couldn't help but smile. "_What a wonderful phrase,"_ he continued.

Tina clapped and smiled. "_Hakuna matata, ain't no passing craze."_

Continuing singing, arms around each other, punch drunk on the pure childishness of their actions, they persisted down the street.

Blaine had no idea where he was going, but he found in this instance that it didn't really matter.

* * *

After being chagrined by quite a few bystanders, they arrived at Mike's front door, breathless and airy.

Tina rang the doorbell, and Mike's mother answered, immediately saying that Mike wasn't there at the moment.

"No worries, Mrs. Chang, I knew, but I was wondering if I could bring Blaine down to the basement?"

"Oh, of course!" Mrs. Chang redirected her heavily made up yet maternal gaze to Blaine. "Having a bad day, child?"

"Unfortunately, Mrs. Chang," he responded, feeling slightly better when she rested a soft hand on his shoulder and said, meaningfully, "Well, you're welcome here anytime Blaine. You're a great friend of both Mike's and Tina's, and we'd be glad."

"Thank you, Mrs. Chang."

She nodded and gestured for Tina to proceed. Tina took Blaine's hand up again and pulled him down towards the basement, waving with the other free hand as Mr. Chang looked up and saw them.

Mr. Chang gave a slight nod in return.

"So what exactly is in Mike's basement, Tina?" Blaine asked wearily, grief's heaviness beginning to press down on his eyelids again.

Tina paused. "Anyplace you want to be."

"I want to be in bed with a tub of ice cream and a dvd copy of the Avengers right now, Tina, is that going to be there when we get down there?" Blaine mumbled sarcastically, but soon stopped up when Tina let go of his hand and felt around the wall for a switch.

They were in a dark, yet clear and organized space. A dented pile of cardboard boxes was pushed up against one corner of the wall, and on the other side a pile of CDs stacked up, the top of the leaning tower threatening to collapse and bring the rest down with it.

Tina gasped slightly in recognition; she had found the switch.

"Blaine," she began, hovering a hand over the switch but not flipping it. "Mike took me here and told me that this is where he goes when he's feeling stressed or out of his mind."

Blaine nodded, looking around the place with a new reverence.

"After his dad started accepting his love for dancing, he built Mike this." She flipped the switch, and a suddenly a panoramic vortex of color engulfed the room. The walls of the basement which had once been gray dull things were now alive with pigment, pinks and blues and oranges bouncing off the walls. The floor beneath him lit up in much the same vibrant fashion, this time reds and blues and projected stage lights near the corners of the floor flashing faux beams of light across the walls.

This was contrasted with Blaine's silence as he took it in.

"Mike dances to relieve himself of stress, and he often dreams of being on a dance stage one day… being famous… This allows him to live that for just a little bit. There's also a button next to this one that will start the music, but I won't start that because that's not what we're down here for."

"What _are_ we down here for, Tina?" Blaine asked, still staring in awe at the explosion of color around him.

"Because this is not the only place this basement can look like." She smiled slightly, and in front of Blaine's vision the scenes changed rapidly, collages of places and anonymous faces and wonder passing before him. It finally stopped as waves rolled through the walls, crashing silently on the floor, and the floor beneath him morphed into crystalline sand. Blaine could almost feel his shoes sinking, feel grains work their way into his shoe and wiggle between his toes.

Tina walked towards Blaine. "I've always found it a nice thought to scream out your frustrations when you're alone on a beach," she whispered, the silence around them falling like feathers. "There's not a beach close enough to drive to right now, so I wanted to take you to the next best thing."

Blaine continued staring straight ahead, watching the waves roll in and out, imprinting the pattern in his mind.

She touched him lightly on the shoulder. "Go ahead Blaine, let your frustrations out. I'll be upstairs, just come up when you're ready."

Blaine nodded weakly, still watching the waves, and he heard the ghost of the door close imperceptibly behind him.

He was alone, and there was nothing but doubt in the air.

He sat down on the floor, cross legged, imagining pulling fistfuls of sand in his hands.

Then he imagined Kurt next to him, his silky smile piercing Blaine's concentration.

"You weren't there, Kurt," he started out whispering, feeling traitorous and trying to quell the sense of relief in him all the same. "I was trying to be strong for you and you were so caught up in your own dilemmas that you weren't there."

He imagined tears dwelling in Kurt's eyes. "You were always so focused on _yourself_ half the time," he continued, voice raising, "that I felt neglected! Like I was holding onto you when I'd already lost you!"

"Did you know how it felt when you first turned me around on that staircase in Dalton? It felt like a weight had been lifted. It felt like I could fucking breathe again, and I hadn't felt like that in a long time."

"You were so beautiful Kurt!" he continued, voice trembling in his throat, scrambling for release but scratching as it did so. "You were the best thing that had ever happened to me! And I was trying to let you go because I saw how uninterested you were becoming! Not for me! It hurt me to imagine life without you before! Why would you think it hurts any less now?"

"_Shit,"_ he yelled. "Shit! _I only tried to do this for you!_ For your own benefit! Because I love you, and I won't stop loving you! And then you turned around and played the trick on me, and I turned out to be right. _Why was I right?"_

The Kurt in his mind acquiesced quietly, standing up and walking away.

The ending to their story didn't change, but somehow after Kurt had walked away and Blaine felt solidly alone again, he felt more at peace with it.

Maybe this pain wasn't permanent.

* * *

He turned his opportunity for confessions off with the flip of a switch, and wiped his eyes hastily.

When he pulled open the door, Tina saw the red rims around his eyes, and enveloped him in another hug.

When Blaine hugged back this time with a genuine effort, Tina smiled.

3. Bargaining

"_My heart is a bargain today. Will you take it?"-W.C. Fields_

Blaine's lines of defenses were slowly breaking down.

Summer time, normally a time of liquid hours in the heat and lazy days in the backyard with books cradled in hand, found him inside with a tape recorder instead.

He would stand in front of the mirror for hours, rehearsing what he'd say, practicing the cadences of his voice, rubbing his eyes in frustration.

Then he would sit on his bed and record his messages. Messages to Kurt. Messages about life without him, about how he missed him, about how he bought something that he would send to him as a present were they still together… messages of his pain.

Soon they just became pleas.

"_Kurt, I miss you. I'm sorry I tried to break up with you before, but I can't imagine life without you. When I promised to love you forever I really meant it. I'm sorry for the way things turned out, but I'd do anything to change it back again."_

"_If only I could've been stronger, Kurt. If only I could've been what you wanted."_

"_I've been thinking about our relationship recently, and there were so many things I could have done to make you see how much I love you. I could've said it every day, said it until my tongue bled the words. I love you. I hope you're having a good time in New York."_

"_Remember Sebastian? I'm so sorry I wasn't obvious enough with my disgust, that I let him continue doing what he did to us without saying anything. I never loved anyone but you."_

"_Remember how you called me a puppy, and I called you the fierce kitty to my puppy? I miss our stupid inside jokes like that. We were so stupid but so in love."_

"_Anything. At this point, I'd do anything to get you back."_

* * *

He kept all the tapes packaged up, with Kurt's name written in Sharpie across the cardboard at all times. He never had the intention to send them, though. Just hoard his sorrow underneath his bed. It was the only thing still binding him to Kurt; it was too hard to let go.

4. Depression

"_Nothing thicker than a knife's blade separates happiness from melancholy." –Virginia Woolf_

Depression always hovered annoyingly around his wits, but somehow he managed to stay afloat.

His mother started to talk to him more, her stern countenance slowly melting as she saw her son break, and Blaine always thought he saw the hint of a smile stir on her face when she thought he wasn't always looking, but he dismissed it quickly.

He soon stopped recording messages to Kurt and plunged himself into his summer work for the rest of the remaining weeks before school began. He still went out with Tina, Sam, Sugar, and Artie, and they cheered him up as much as they could, but the sadness rutted within him could not be lifted that easily, not even with their well-intentioned efforts.

Soon the warmth of his friends and the welcome of a new thing to focus on allowed his lonely ache to be eclipsed.

Only temporarily though.

Only as he was distracted.

5. Acceptance

"_When grief weights you like your own flesh  
only more of it, an obesity of grief,  
you think, How can a body withstand this?_

_Then you hold life like a face  
between your palms, a plain face,  
no charming smile, no violet eyes,  
and you say, yes, I will take you  
I will love you, again."_

_-Ellen Bass_

He could finally breathe again without the threat of Kurt Hummel crushing his senses.

When he returned to school, he only had to _sometimes_ hug his binder to his chest to hide the gape in his heart. He only had to _sometimes_ go to the bathroom to stare himself in the mirror and wonder when the sadness had settled on his face.

Even after getting over Kurt, he never considered any other boys. It concerned his friends, but that was the only small part of the pain of him that Blaine kept electing to keep.

"So," Sugar would say, ambling up to Blaine's locker, eyes falling as she saw how bare the walls were, "any cute muchachos out there you're thinking of bangin'?"

"Sorry, Sugar," he would say, "I'm just not interested in dating right now."

But Sugar would persist, coming up every day with a variation of the same question. "Come on, that guy _totally_ just checked you out. I sense an opportunity! Seize the day, Blainers. Seize the day!"

"Sorry, Sugar."

Once she came up to his locker just the same as always, and as Blaine started to mumble out his usual response, she cut him off.

"Now listen Blaine, I'm not going to ask you the same thing I always do. I have Aspergers, so I'm allowed to say this." She paused dramatically. "You're being pathetic right now." She leveled a stare at him. "Look, Kurt loved you a lot. I think he still loves you, but still, your love was beautiful. Don't let that go to waste, okay?"

Blaine nodded, stunned by the sudden serious turn.

"I care about you Blaine, and I don't like seeing you so sad like this. You deserve happiness, 'kay? Sugar and spice and everything nice an all that. Be happy for me, 'kay? You don't have to date anyone to prove that you're over him, and I know you still love him, but I just want to see you happy."

"Th-thanks Sugar," Blaine stuttered, still slightly surprised.

"You're welcome. Now, slap that stupid smile on your face and get to class."

Blaine laughed into his locker, and Sugar walked away.

* * *

When he walked into glee club that afternoon, and as he saw all the smiling faces try to filter their relief as he, for the first time in a while, smiled back at them, he finally felt as if his broken heart wasn't a forefront of his life anymore.

Sure, Kurt was gone, but so was his past, and now he was a new person.

And perhaps Kurt wasn't gone for good, either. Some strong tendril crept inside Blaine that told him not to give up on the concept of love, and that perhaps the world hadn't totally exhausted his and Kurt's quota of love and affection for each other just yet.

And for now, the all at once and all too sudden yet entirely comfortable embrace of his friends' familial love was more than enough.

He felt strong, and frazzled, and then strong again in alternating currents of feeling.

The ache of Kurt still burned in his heart, but he could deal with it.

It was bearable.

6. The Turn Around

_Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side  
Storm clouds may gather  
And stars may collide  
But I love you until the end of time_

Blaine sat in the McKinley choir room, absentmindedly tapping out the tune of "Come What May" from Moulin Rouge. Mr. Schue had assigned "Moulin Rouge" as the week's assignment, and even though Blaine wasn't singing "Come What May", it had always been his favorite song from the musical, and the tune had been firmly lodged in his head since the Glee Club meeting had ended.

"_Never knew I could feel like this,_

_like I've never seen the sky before"_ Blaine began, almost whispering more than singing.

"Didn't we watch that together?" Blaine heard a voice behind him say, affably.

_Oh my god,_ Blaine thought. _Oh my god._

He spun around on the piano bench, and, sure enough, there was Kurt, the Kurt he had spent many painful months banishing from the most tender part of his heart, the Kurt he had cried too many tears to count over, the Kurt who he had had everything with.

"What are you doing here?" Blaine asked bewilderingly, noticing that he had subconsciously placed his hand on the remaining space on the piano bench next to him. He removed it, and embarrassed, rubbed it nervously.

"I got your tapes," he said, smiling gently. He began advancing, his slender, slender, beautiful figure advancing, and Blaine felt as if the Earth was being shaken to its core.

He had been over his touch, over his heartbreaking touch, for so long, yet he still had this effect over him. Blaine still felt as if he was being broken apart and Kurt Hummel was lodging himself in the middle of his spine, becoming a piece of his backbone again.

Kurt slid next to Blaine, touching him lightly on the shoulder. "How long did you spend recording those?" There were faint tears stirring in his eyes.

"How did you get them?" Blaine asked, frantic. "I never sent them."

"You didn't? Did you keep them in your room? Your mom must've sent them then, since she's the only one who ever goes in your room." He started to shake his head anxiously. "But Blaine, I'm getting off topic. They were _beautiful._ I loved them."

"I… I don't understand, Kurt. I spent so long getting over you after you break up with me and you just show up again?"

"I came down here because I had to see you."

Blaine stared at him, willing his eyes not to become glassy.

Kurt continued.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. But you have to believe that I never stopped thinking of you while I was in New York. I wanted every day to go back and reverse what I'd done, but I was a coward. I was such a coward, and you were here and your heart was breaking because of _me _and I made a stupid, stupid decision. Once I got to New York everything was so lonely when I didn't have you to talk to about it. I missed you just as much and more than you missed me. God, I missed you so much. And I realized I love you, Blaine. I still love you, and I never stopped."

Blaine turned back to the piano and resumed lightly playing "Come What May" on the piano. "Sing with me," he told Kurt, pursing his lips together to keep from making rash declarations.

Kurt nodded, tears welling up in his eyes again, and staring solely at Blaine, began singing.

"_I want to vanish inside your kiss  
Every day I love you more and more"_

Blaine still played, lengthening the played parts between the singing parts so he could talk.

"Kurt… I love you." He laughed, suddenly strong. "I was going to attempt to make a romantic speech, but who am I kidding, _I love you_."

"Aw, you big softie, just skip to the chorus already so we can sing together and then make up."

Giggling, Blaine swept the span of the piano and, standing, dipped Kurt in his arms.

"No, I think just us singing it will be much more effective."

Kurt smiled, cheeks rosing and lips parted. "Charm me then, Blaine Anderson," he said breathily. "Charm me."

Kurt strained upwards to kiss him, sweetly and distinctly and a welcome sugary sweet taste that Blaine had been craving. The saccharine scent swept through his mouth, settling on his tongue, and as they broke apart Blaine felt the ambrosial trace of it ease back into familiarity. Kurt beamed up at him.

"I still want my epic getting back together duet, so you better sing with me," he said, with happy fervor hanging on his shallow breaths.

Blaine laughed, launching into the chorus as Kurt did so. The boy he loved was once again in his arms, once again his to hold.

_Come what may  
Come what may  
I will love you until my dying day._


End file.
